


Signs of Home

by emynn



Category: Queer as Folk (US)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Dirty Talk, Floor Sex, Hand Jobs, M/M, Post-Series, Reunion Sex, Reunions, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-10
Updated: 2015-01-10
Packaged: 2018-03-07 00:27:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,936
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3153992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/emynn/pseuds/emynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After realizing peddling his art in New York isn't his dream, Justin decides to move back to Pittsburgh to study animation ... and, ideally, to renew his relationship with Brian. There's only one problem: Brian doesn't want anything to do with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Signs of Home

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the 2014 Queer as Folk Holiday Gift Exchange. My prompt was "fluff, hurt/comfort, angst, some kind of post 5.13 reunion, Justin wants Brian back."

“I don’t get it,” Justin says, staring at Brian’s back as he takes his coffee to go and leaves the Diner. “I thought he’d be excited to have me back.”

“I’m sure he is, baby,” Emmett says, digging into his pancakes. “You know Brian. He’s never exactly been the poster boy for expressing one’s emotions.”

“I guess,” Justin says, but all he can think about are those days, his last few before leaving Pittsburgh for New York, when Brian had finally opened up to him in a way Justin had never dreamed he’d actually see. Justin hadn't been naïve enough to think that it would become a regular occurrence to hear Brian say how much he loved him, or that what they felt for each other would transcend time itself, or even call him his prince, for fuck’s sake, but he'd still expected more than … this. This complete indifference … hell, Justin might as well have been some trick back in town after three years away rather than the man Brian had almost married.

After Justin moved to New York, he and Brian made a concerted but ultimately unsuccessful attempt at carrying out a long-distance non-relationship. For a couple that relied so heavily on physical contact – not just for sexual pleasure, but as a means of communication – being apart with no real end date in sight only caused them both a great deal of pain, even if Brian refused to admit it. Still, the endless arguments made it pretty clear. Jealousy, insecurities, petty annoyances – all things they could have settled if they’d been in the same state – ended up being their undoing.

Still, they parted as friends. More than friends, really. Their goodbye was very similar to the night before Justin had first left for New York, only this time it took place in Justin’s pitiful excuse for an apartment. And even though they made each other no promises, Justin always assumed that if fate should smile upon them and they ended up in the same place together again, they’d just fall back together.

Except now Justin's finally back in Pittsburgh, getting ready to start a new term at PIFA to study animation after realizing the politics and pretentiousness of peddling his art in New York wasn’t the way he wanted to spend his life, and Brian doesn't seem to give a damn.

“Are you sure he’s not seeing somebody?” Justin asks. “Does he have a boyfriend?”

Emmett laughs outright at that. “Brian? A boyfriend?”

“It’s been known to happen,” Justin mutters.

“No, honey,” Emmett says, and squeezes his hand. “You were a one-time deal. Brian Kinney still doesn’t do boyfriends.”

“Then what is it?” Justin asks. “I may have put on a little weight –“

“Yeah, ten pounds of solid muscle,” Emmett says with a wink.

“And my hair is a mess –“

“Yes, hair that makes it look like you just got fucked is so unappealing.”

“But it’s not like I’m a troll or anything. And I’m still the same person.”

“Better,” Emmett says.

“Did he just fall out of love with me?” The words escape Justin’s mouth before he’s even had a chance to process them, and the weight of them hits him like a blow to the stomach. “Oh, shit,” he whispers. “He did. He fell out of love with me. Fuck!”

Christ, how had Justin never even considered that possibility? Just because he’d never been able to find somebody else who could compare to Brian, just because he’d never stopped being desperately in love with him, that didn’t mean Brian felt the same way. And it had been three years since Justin had moved to New York, a little more than two since they’d agreed to split, and nearly one since they’d last crossed paths. How could he have expected Brian to maintain the same level of feelings for him? It would be hard enough for anybody, but for somebody like _Brian_ , who’d spent most of his life convinced love was a farce?

Justin hangs his head in his hands. “I’m an idiot.”

“You’re not an idiot, honey,” Emmett says. “You’re just –“

“Naïve? Pathetic? Completely out of touch with the way the actual world works outside of romantic comedies?”

“Terribly, madly, in love,” Emmett finishes. “Believe me, I understand. It took every ounce of willpower for me not to jump my Drewski’s bones the first time I saw him after we split up, but the time wasn’t right. But I kept that hope alive, no matter what anybody said, and now look!” He waves his hand in front of Justin’s face, the diamonds on his ring sparkling under the lights of the Diner.

Justin smiles in spite of himself. “Can’t wait to witness the wedding of the century.”

“Only because we won’t have to compete with yours and Brian’s.”

And, just like that, Justin’s mood is back to where it started.

“Sorry,” Emmett says, contrite.

“It’s okay,” Justin says. “I just wish I knew what to do.”

“What are you talking about?” Emmett asks. “So Brian’s acting like his usual emotionally constipated self. Does that change your plans to go back to art school, to become an animator like you always wanted? Does it make you want to move back to New York to sell your art? I thought you said you hated that life.”

“I did. And it won’t.” Justin sighs, frustrated. “It just … would have been a nice added bonus.”

“I know, baby,” Emmett says. “And besides, who knows what the future holds? You and Brian did always seem to be like two oppositely charged magnets, somehow always ending up together despite the odds. One of the great mysteries of the universe.”

“You’re telling me,” Justin mutters.

“Well, don’t let it get to you. The rest of us are _thrilled_ you’re finally home. Have you picked out an outfit to wear to your welcome home party Deb’s throwing?”

Justin snorts. “Um, I was thinking jeans?”

Emmett rolls his eyes. “How you can live in the fashion capital of the world for years and still come back dressed like a starving artist is beyond me.”

“How about I let you take me shopping sometime next week?” Justin asks. “Would that make you feel better? You’ve been a bigger influence on me than New York ever was, anyway.”

“Aww, honey,” Emmett says, a wide smile on his face. “You know how to make a queen feel like, well, a queen. Let’s do it. I’ve got all kinds of ideas.” He leans over and squeezes Justin’s hand. “And don’t you worry about a certain ad exec. He’ll come around.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t bet your shirt on that,” Justin says, and returns to his coffee.

~*~

“So, what do you think?”

Daphne peers out the window, then looks back at Justin. “Well, it’s definitely a step up from your apartment in New York.”

“That’s one perk of being back in Pittsburgh,” Justin says. “Compared to what I was paying in Chelsea, this place is dirt cheap.”

“I wish Elisa had the same perspective,” Daphne says with a sigh, collapsing onto the couch. “She complains every month when the rent’s due.”

“Not everybody can be as amazing a roommate as I was,” Justin says, and sits down next to her.

“Yeah,” Daphne says, and tickles his ribs. “Because you were never there.”

“Stop, stop!” Justin says, laughing.

“But this is nice,” Daphne says, pulling away. “Just seems kind of empty.”

Justin feels his smile fade from his face. Truthfully, he’d been hoping not to be spending much time in this apartment. Not that he’d expected Brian to invite him to live at the loft right away, but they’d always spent so much time together even when they weren’t technically living together that they may as well have been. He’d been thinking this would be a place to sleep when he and Brian needed some space, or when Brian wanted to bring a trick back, or if Justin’s artwork threatened to consume the loft. It was never meant to be his _home_.

Although now it appears Justin's going to have to reassess that plan. Daphne’s right. The apartment does look empty. Hell, it’s one step away from corporate housing. Not Justin’s style at all.

“That just means we’ll have to go shopping,” Daphne says brightly. “How about next week?”

“I’m already going clothing shopping with Emmett,” Justin says.

“What, you can’t do two shopping trips in one week? What kind of queer are you?”

“Shut up,” Justin says, nudging her with his shoulder. He’s missed her, nearly as much as Brian. Being with Daphne makes him feel safe, comfortable, like he can completely be himself, just like it’s always been. As much as he loves Emmett and Ted and Michael, it was a long time before they all truly became friends, what with Justin spending the first year acting like it was completely normal for a high school student to be hanging around a bunch of thirty-somethings in bars, and then even longer before he felt like they wanted to actually be around him and weren't merely tolerating him because he was Brian's boy toy. But he'd never had to put up an act with Daphne; he'd always been completely confident she loved him for exactly who he was.

“So, have you seen Brian?”

Justin closes his eyes. He’d nearly forgotten about this impressive trait Daphne possesses, the ability to oh-so-casually cut right to the crux of an issue, no matter how uncomfortable or how much Justin was trying to avoid it. “Yeah, I’ve seen him,” he says, and stands up. “He wants nothing to do with me.”

Daphne’s eyes widen. “Bullshit.”

“It’s true,” Justin says, digging his hands into his pockets. “Don’t get me wrong: he was perfectly polite. But I might as well have been one of his clients.”

“Maybe he’s just in shock,” Daphne says. “After all, it was a pretty sudden decision. You didn’t even tell anybody you were re-applying to PIFA, and only found out you’d been accepted three weeks ago.”

“Yeah, and I emailed him right away,” Justin says. “Do you know how he responded? Four words, one for each day it took for him to get back to me: ‘Great. See you around.’ Didn’t even sign his name.”

“Weird,” Daphne says. “So, what are you going to do to get him back?”

Justin laughs. “What can I do? Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Daphne asks, incredulous. “You’re just going to sit down and take it? What about what you did after Ethan? Remember the brilliant plan we hatched to get him back? And it worked.”

“Yeah, but that time I was pretty sure he still loved me. He may have been pissed at me, but he still loved me,” Justin says. “Now he doesn’t. That makes it completely different.”

“Of course he still loves you,” Daphne says. “You two were a day away from getting married. That’s _huge_.”

“That was also a long time ago,” Justin says, and goes to get himself a drink. He may have only been in this apartment a few days and he may not have much in the way of furniture or decorations, but he knows the essentials.

“Not that long ago,” Daphne mutters. “You make it sound like we should all be in a nursing home.”

Justin snorts, and tosses Daphne a beer. “Sometimes I feel like I might as well be. When I think about everything that’s already happened in my life … it’s a lot, you know? And so much of it is entwined with Brian. And then I wonder …” He shakes his head. “Nothing.”

“You wonder if maybe you’re not actually in love with Brian, but he’s so tied up in so many of your memories that you’re in love with the idea of him and the security he provides? And then you wonder if it's only because you associate him with all excitement he once brought you as you entered the most formative stage of your life? And you think maybe since you've put him up on such a pedestal, you'll always struggle to find that same level of fulfilment with anybody else?”

Justin blinks. “Those psych classes are really paying off for you.”

“Thanks,” Daphne says. “Then you’ll believe me when I give my expert psychiatric opinion that all that’s complete bullshit.”

“Daph –“

“I have never seen anybody more in love with each other than you and Brian,” Daphne says, opening her beer. “And I can understand the timing wasn’t right before. But now it is. You’re both in Pittsburgh. I know you both still love each other. Brian’s probably just caught up in his head again.”

“So what do you think I should do, Dr. Chanders?”

“March your pretty ass down to his office, or his loft, or fucking Babylon, and make him remember that you’re Justin Taylor and you’re fucking irresistible.”

Justin laughs. “You’re overestimating my charms. Brian can resist anybody he wants.”

“Not you,” Daphne says, taking a long swallow of her drink. “Never you.”

~*~

The next day, buoyed by his conversation with Daphne, Justin heads down to Kinnetik. Fortunately, Cynthia still has a soft spot and lets him in immediately, even though Brian’s out with Ted meeting a client for lunch.

Justin takes the opportunity to explore Brian’s office. It hasn’t changed much over the years – other than a newer computer and different ads spread out around the room, it looks exactly as it did the last time Justin saw it. Justin closes his eyes and tries to remember himself back then. How many days had he stopped by Brian’s office on a whim, just because he wanted to see him, to hear his voice and see his face at the same time, to have the opportunity to reach out and touch him? Or, if he was feeling particularly horny, for a mid-afternoon quickie? Brian had always been happy to oblige him.

If he had stayed, this still could have been his life. Stopping by Brian’s office just to say hello. Hanging out, waiting for him when he had some time to kill. What he’s doing right now – that could have been his normal routine.

Not that Justin regrets going to New York. Not really. It had been a life-changing experience. He met incredible people and created some of his greatest works of art there. And if he hadn’t gone, Justin knows he would have regretted it, and would have spent the rest of his life wondering “what if.”

However, if going to New York meant he had lost Brian for good …

“Justin.”

Justin opens his eyes and whirls around. “Brian,” he says, and smiles his brightest smile, the one Daphne insists makes him irresistible. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Brian says, and moves to his desk to drop off his briefcase. “To what do I owe the unexpected pleasure?”

“I was just taking a break from unpacking and thought I’d come say hello,” Justin says. “I only live a few blocks away. You know those new buildings on Tremont?”

Brian nods. “I’ve seen them.”

“Yeah, I bet you have,” Justin says. He’s aiming for seductive, trying to get Brian to smile at the innuendo-laden words, but it doesn’t seem to have an effect on him. “So, how’s it going?”

“Busy,” Brian says, going to sit behind his desk. “Very busy.”

“I imagine taking on the advertising world by storm does eat out a good chunk of your day,” Justin says.

“You have no idea,” Brian says, and begins rifling through some papers on his desk.

Justin frowns. Brian appears to be attempting to look anywhere except at him. This actually seems to be a step beyond indifference; if Brian didn’t care one way or the other, he’d at least be able to manage some idle small talk. But he doesn’t even look like he wants to waste the minuscule amount of energy it would take to attempt that. Justin plays back the last few conversations he’s had with Brian, the last few times he saw him in person, trying to remember if there had been something that would explain why Brian was acting so cold, but absolutely nothing comes to mind. They’d always at least been … well, maybe not _friendly_ ever since splitting up, but at least cordial.

“Would you rather I not be here?” Justin asks after the silence carries out for a beat too long to pass as comfortable.

“Well, as I said, I’m very busy, and you still haven’t given me a real reason why you’re here, so …”

“Right. You’re right.” Justin grabs his jacket from off the table where he’d left it and shrugs it on. “I’m sorry. I should have known better.”

“Mmhmm.” Brian doesn’t even glance up from what he’s reading.

“So, how about later, then?” Justin asks. “We could get a drink at Woody’s tonight after you’re done work. Have a chance to catch up.”

“Sorry,” Brian says. He finally stands, and it gives Justin hope, until he realizes that he’s only standing so he can escort Justin to the door. “I have plans.”

“Okay,” Justin says. “Another time then? Just let me know.” Christ, he hates how desperate he sounds, but he can’t help but feeling like he’s losing a critical early battle.

“Yeah,” Brian says, and holds the door open.

Justin glances around the room, praying for a sign, a clue, something to latch on to that would tell him why Brian is acting like a complete stranger.

Instead, his eyes catch something that reveals the opposite.

“Hey, that’s one of my paintings,” Justin says, pointing at a canvas just outside Brian’s office. He’s not sure how he missed it going in. He supposes it’s somewhat hidden out of the way, but it would be impossible to miss completely if you were going in and out of the room all the time. The tiny flicker of hope in his chest bursts into a full flame: Brian wanted a reminder of him.

“Huh?” Brian glances behind him. “Oh, yeah. Went well with the space.”

And, just like that, the hope flickers and is nearly extinguished. “Yeah,” Justin says. “It does.”

~*~

Justin heads down to Woody’s after dinner anyway. He thinks maybe he’ll run into somebody, or maybe even meet somebody new to take his mind off the fact that the man he thought was the love of his life seemed to be content to never see him again.

“Gin and tonic,” he says to the bartender, and glances around the bar to see if there’s anybody worth talking to while he waits for his drink. It’s a full house, with plenty of attractive guys, but somehow they all pale in comparison to the person he _actually_ wants to talk to.

“Another whiskey.”

Speak of the devil.

“Brian,” he says, turning to face him. “I thought you couldn't come out.”

“Didn’t say I couldn't come out,” Brian said. His face is red, his gaze out of focus, and Justin knows he’s had more than a few drinks. “Said I had plans. Plans to be here.”

“I asked you to get a drink after work,” Justin says. “Couldn’t I have fit into your plans?”

“Yeah, because us making plans has always worked out so well,” Brian says, and downs his whiskey. “Another.”

“Brian,” Justin says. “Are you pissed at me?”

“I’m not anything at you,” Brian says. “So why don’t you go fuck off?”

“Right,” Justin says. “Not pissed at all.”

Brian rolls his eyes and snaps at the bartender to hurry up.

“Listen, Brian.” Justin places a cautious hand on Brian’s bicep. An electric jolt shoots through him at the contact and reverberates from within once he realizes that Brian’s not going to throw him off. At least not right away. “My feelings for you haven’t changed. If yours have … well, I can respect that, at least. But is this how we’re going to be for the rest of our lives? Just aloof strangers who don’t give a damn about each other? Even if we’re never going to be lovers again, I thought we’d always at least be friends.”

This time Brian does shove Justin away. “That’s such bullshit,” he says, his laugh a harsh bark. “We were never friends.”

Justin takes a step back. “What are you talking about? Of course we were.”

“No, _Sunshine_ , we weren’t. We fucked. A lot. We were … partners. We were fiancés for a short period of time. Where exactly did you see us being friends?”

“Um, only throughout all of that,” Justin says, incredulous.

“You don’t fuck friends,” Brian says. “Certainly not as many times as we did.”

“Okay, fine, we weren’t friends,” Justin says, even though the entire idea is fucking ridiculous and he can’t believe he’s at Woody’s with Brian debating the semantics of their relationship. “We were always something more than friends.”

Brian snorts. “Yeah. That’s one way to put it.”

“So then where does that leave us?” Justin asks. “Maybe we didn’t need to sort it out when I was in New York, but I’m here now.”

“Exactly,” Brian says. “You’re here, now.”

Justin frowns. “Sorry?”

“It means it’s time we move on,” Brian says. “We have no ties to each other. We’re not lovers, we’re not partners, we’re definitely not fucking married. And we’re not friends. So what’s the point in us hanging out and acting like we are?”

Justin feels all the air leave the room. He clutches at the bar, so hard it hurts. “You don’t feel anything toward me?” His voice is on the verge of cracking, and he hopes the din of the bar covers it. “Anything at all?”

Brian looks back at the bartender, who’s there with his drink, and hands him a twenty. “What exactly did you expect me to feel, Sunshine?”

He gives Justin a mock salute with his drink and walks away from the bar, away from Justin. For his part, Justin can only barely manage to control the shaking of his hand, now a virtual claw clutching the surface of the bar.

“Don’t let him get to you, sweetie,” the bartender says, giving Justin a commiserating smile. “He breaks all the guys’ hearts. Nobody can get close to Brian Kinney.”

Justin closes his eyes and buries his face in his hands.

~*~

"Hey," Michael says, and slides into the seat across from Justin. "I thought you were coming by the store so we could talk about plans for the next issue of _Rage_."

"Yeah, I am," Justin says, absently stirring more cream into his coffee. "At one, right?"

Michael takes Justin's wrist and holds it up in front of his face. "Care to read what your watch says?"

"Two," Justin groans, and brushes back his hair. "Sorry. Lost track of time."

"That's okay," Michael says. "I imagine it's a little weird, being back in Pittsburgh. Seeing how everything's changed since you've been gone."

"You can say that again," Justin mutters.

"What, Pittsburgh not living up to your golden memories?"

"Not exactly," Justin says, and sighs. "For starters, Brian wants nothing to do with me."

Michael goes uncharacteristically quiet and looks down at his hands. "Ah."

"What is it?" Justin asks, leaning in closer. "You can tell me. I won't be pissed. I just want to know."

"I honestly have no idea," Michael says.

"How can you not have any idea? You're his best friend."

"Brian doesn't tell me everything," Michael says, finally meeting Justin's eyes. "Especially not where you're concerned."

Justin falls back into the booth. "This is such bullshit."

"He actually told you that?" Michael asks. "That he doesn't want anything to do with you? Because you know Brian ..."

"Yeah, I know Brian, better than anybody," Justin says, daring Michael to say otherwise. Michael, wisely, stays silent. "But that's exactly what he said. Christ, it felt like back when I was seventeen and he was telling me I was just a fuck and I couldn't have him. How he could act like that, after everything we've been through ..."

Justin looks up at Michael, absolutely hating this moment, hating the twisted sense of déjà vu taking over. Here he is, whining about Brian not showing any interest in him, just like he had when he was a kid. He braces himself for what he's sure is coming, another lecture from Michael about how Brian's an asshole, how he doesn't do boyfriends, how he only thinks about himself ...

He raises his eyebrows at Michael. "Well?"

Michael shrugs. "I told you. I don't know what's going on in his mind."

"Does he ever ... talk about me?" Justin winces, knowing just how pathetic that sounds.

"No."

"Oh," Justin says, very quietly. It's not like he expected Brian to pine for him, not exactly. But he knows the stories he's been told, about how Brian went off the deep end after he was bashed, after he left him for Ethan. And both of those were events were practically at the very beginning of their relationship. How could Brian just not give a shit, _now_?

"Not since you split up," Michael continues. "He just came back from New York, said the two of you had decided you needed a clean break, and that he didn't want to talk about it."

"And so you just didn't talk about it," Justin says, disbelieving. This is _Michael_ , after all. The nosiest son of a bitch on the planet who never met a business that wasn't his.

Michael has the good grace to blush. "Well, I tried. But it was kind of like being back in grade school, you know, when if you were pissed at somebody they just gave you the silent treatment? Any time I tried to bring you up, if anybody did, he'd just shut up. Not say a word, not tell anybody else to keep quiet. He'd just do it all on his own. Or, of course, he'd just leave. Except ..."

"Except?"

"Except for the one night I found him shitfaced in his loft," Michael says. "It was the anniversary of the day you left for New York. I just wanted to check up on him."

Justin's heart rate increases, just the slightest bit. "And?"

Michael smiles apologetically. "And he chucked a bottle of Jack Daniels at me and told me to shut the fuck up and get out."

Justin exhales. “So not _completely_ indifferent.”

“Probably not,” Michael concedes.

“Then why’s he acting like such a shit? And don’t say because he’s Brian.”

Michael laughs. “So, isn’t this where you swoop in with your irresistible Justin Taylor act? Make some grand gesture so Brian can’t ignore you anymore and you wind up fucking against the nearest flat surface?”

“You know, I don’t know why you people keep calling me irresistible. If I were, I _clearly_ wouldn’t be spending my first days back in Pittsburgh moping around after Brian. Shit!” Justin shakes his head. “Besides, it’s different now. If I ever had a hold over him, it’s gone now. I can’t get a read on him anymore. It’s just been too long.”

“I’m sorry, Justin,” Michael says. “For what it’s worth, I don’t think Brian was ever happier than when he was with you. As much as I may have hated to admit it then.”

Justin mutters a thank you, but he knows it’s bullshit. This whole thing is bullshit. What the fuck does it matter if Brian was happier _then_? _Then_ is completely irrelevant. Right _now_ Brian looks like he’d rather eat pussy for an entire week rather than see Justin’s face for ten minutes. Right _now_ Justin is trying to figure out how the fuck he’s supposed to live in Pittsburgh, knowing Brian is so close and yet so far away at the same time.

Right _now_ Justin is wondering if any of it had ever been true at all, if maybe being bashed had fucked him up even more than he realized and all that he ever thought he’d shared with Brian had all been in his mind, because there’s no way, none, that the Brian he’d left in Pittsburgh three years ago would react to his presence like this.

“Anyway, let’s talk _Rage_ ,” Michael says. “Did you look over the ideas I sent you to explain the long hiatus? I thought the one about Rage being trapped on that toxic planet had potential, or maybe the amnesia plotline, or the –“

“Let’s go with amnesia,” Justin says, and takes out his sketchpad and a pen. “Gayopolis in chaos, and Rage is powerless to help, because he can’t remember who he even is.” He uncaps one of the pens. “Or JT.”

~*~

Justin really, _really_ isn’t in the mood to go to his welcome home party. He wants to get drunk, or stoned, or really anything that would make him forget that his return to Pittsburgh had essentially gone the exact opposite way he had anticipated. Somehow, it doesn’t even feel like a welcome home. A welcome back, sure. But a home is supposed to be the place you feel the most comfortable, where you feel safe, where you feel you belong. But for Justin, the one constant in his life since he was seventeen is that he can count on Brian for anything, that Brian would always protect him, would be there for him, no matter what. With that gone, Pittsburgh is now just the city where Justin grew up.

He can practically hear Brian scoff at that. “What difference does it make if I want to fuck you or not?” this strange new Brian asks. “You said you wanted to come back to Pittsburgh and study art. What the fuck difference does it make what I’m doing with my life?”

That should be true. It’s what Brian has always told him, after all, to do what makes _him_ happy and fuck the rest. But the truth is, even though New York was home to some of the best art schools in the world, Justin never even considered applying to them. It was always PIFA or … well, Justin had never gotten that far. Once he’d decided his heart was with animation, it was get into PIFA, move back to Pittsburgh, and fall back together with Brian. With the last seemingly out of the picture … well, Justin doesn’t know where it leaves the other parts of his plan.

But, here he is, at least for the time being. And so he smiles as Debbie piles another helping of chicken parmesan on his plate and lets Emmett ply him with mixed drinks. He half-listens as Michael prattles on about _Rage_ and meets Daphne’s new boyfriend, who’s cute but a bit on the boring side. He watches with some amusement as Molly flirts rather aggressively with Hunter, who can’t seem to drop her as much as he tries.

But mostly he just sits in the armchair with a prime view of the front door, waiting.

Brian arrives, as he always does, the second Justin gives up hope of seeing him. He slips in, not exactly hiding but not going out of his way to announce his arrival, walks straight into the kitchen, and grabs a beer from the fridge before heading to talk to Ted. Justin tries not to get excited, but Brian’s not exactly the type to just show up to these kinds of events if he didn’t want to be there.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” Justin says to Brian once they cross paths.

“Well, you know me, any excuse for a party,” Brian says, holding up his bottle of Sam Adams. “And who knows the next time I’ll be able to attend one of these welcome home soirees?”

Justin smiles. He can’t help it. Brian might be acting like his usual sarcastic asshole self, but it feels so refreshingly normal that it’s all Justin can do not to reach out and grab him. For the briefest second Justin thinks he sees something soften in Brian, just the slightest flicker of his eyelashes and the way he tilts his head, an almost imperceptible quirk of the lips, but just as suddenly, the moment is gone. “Have to go talk to Mikey,” Brian says, and leaves Justin alone by the pretzels and dip.

Justin and Brian pass the rest of the night in an odd parody of a dance. They connect – a brush of the elbow, a slightly too long glance, a comment directed at another but at a louder volume for each other’s benefit – and then, just as quickly, part and go their separate ways. Avoid, connect, part, repeat. It drives Justin crazy, and he can tell Brian’s close to snapping himself.

Maybe it’s all the cosmopolitans Emmett keeps bringing him, maybe it’s just that it’s getting late and Justin’s finally feeling comfortable with his usual crew at Debbie’s again, maybe it’s the suppressed smolder of Brian’s eyes the last time they both reached to open the refrigerator when Ted asked for a bottle of water, but Justin feels confident he can do it. He can _break_ Brian. And this time, because he’s pretty sure Brian feels _something_ for him, even if he won’t admit it for fuck knows why, Justin thinks he can sort it out. Get to the root of the issue and make Brian see reason. He’s done it before, and seeing how Brian’s not quite as indifferent toward him as he originally made himself out to be, why shouldn’t Justin be able to do it again?

And so when everybody starts calling for a speech, Justin laughs and puts up a token protest before raising his drink to acknowledge the group. “I just want to say thank you all for coming out tonight,” he says. He looks directly at Brian, who huffs a little and takes a swallow from his beer, before smiling at the others. “It feels really good to be home. It’s great to see that despite being away, and not seeing you all as much as I would have liked, nothing’s really changed. You are all still the best friends in the world. I love you all, and I can’t begin to tell you how much all of your constant love and support means to me. Thank you for giving me something to come home to.”

His speech complete, Justin smiles triumphantly as he glances back over at Brian. He expects to see his eyes darkening, or his hand tightening around his beer bottle, or at least some sign of irritation.

But instead Brian’s gaze is open, his lashes somehow looking ungodly long. And while the expression is soft, Justin knows, without even a shred of doubt, that Brian’s focus is laser-sharp, and it’s directed straight at him. It reminds him of the time Justin returned his shell bracelet after Brian’s dickwad of a nephew accused him of molesting him, and Brian had asked him if he should be getting back to his boyfriend. Justin hadn’t been able to erase the image from his mind, because it had been one of the rare instances he hadn’t been able to get a clear read on what Brian’s expression meant. It had seemed too inscrutable to discern, especially once Justin had ruled out the usual emotions he’d come to expect from Brian when he talked about Ethan: condescension, scorn, and wry amusement, to name a few of the nicer ones. It was only later, once they had gotten back together, that Justin had been able to pieces together the jumble of emotions Brian must have been attempting to keep at bay: pain, hope, lust, hurt, an air of expectation, and, yes, love. Yearning. To want something so badly it hurts.

And that’s when it hits him, when Justin realizes that in his time away, he forgot the most critical piece to the puzzle that is Brian Kinney.

He’s a fucking legend.

He’s larger than life. He does nothing by halves. He works hard, he plays hard, he fucks hard.

But as big of a man as Brian is, he’s a man of subtleties. He reveals himself in increments of nanoseconds. You have to train yourself to look for it -- a tilt of the head, a stiffened posture, a glance away. And most people are so distracted by the allure of Brian Kinney, of all that flash and style and raw heat, that they miss it. It’s how Ted and Emmett and even Michael can have spent countless hours with him over the years and before even beginning to scratch the surface of knowing Brian. They got so caught up what Brian Kinney puts out that they missed the signs he keeps locked up tight.

Except Justin. Justin’s a well-trained expert, a connoisseur of all things Brian, and he knows where to look. He knows _when_ to look: when others look away. Before, Justin could detect those cracks in Brian’s wellbeing even before they fully formed, and with a touch, a kiss, he could seal Brian whole. It had taken time, but Justin had learned how to reach him. And while Brian would never admit it out loud, Justin knew he’d come to crave that comfort.

But Justin’s grown rusty, he realizes, and he’s missed the signs. Only not because he’s blinded by the magical, mystical aura of Brian Kinney. Pretty much the exact opposite, in fact. Justin had been too busy remembering _his_ Brian. Strong and passionate, with a fierce determination to live each day exactly the way _he_ wanted, because it was _his_ and it was short and fuck all the rest, Brian had gifted Justin with a more extraordinary love than he could even begin to comprehend. This one, beautifully and perfectly flawed man, who laughed at the gods and defied death because they couldn't live the way he did. Brian.

But what Justin’s forgotten is that while he may have once helped Brian seal those cracks, they still existed, and he’s likely acquired a few more along the way. And while there may have been a time when Brian could have made do without Justin there to patch up the broken parts, that time has long passed. Brian has grown to rely on Justin in a way he never has with another human being, and that absence alone must have created a painful, splintering crack, still left untouched and unhealed.

His stomach sinking, Justin thinks back over the past three years and wonders just how many signs he missed. Had Brian been enquiring about how much time Justin spent painting because he wanted to tease him for not having a social life, or was it actually because he wanted to see if Justin had found somebody else to replace him? Did he commission those paintings not as a subtle way to supplement Justin’s income when he was struggling to make rent, but because he wanted something of Justin’s that was his alone in case this whole long-distance non-relationship didn’t work out, the way everybody said it wouldn’t?

When Justin had asked him if it was worth all the pain and misery of trying to keep it going and Brian had remained silent as he looked away … had he actually been waiting for Justin to answer his own question and say “yes”?

“Brian,” he says, but Brian’s already finished his beer and is heading into the kitchen for another. Justin follows him, determined not to miss anything this time.

“Brian,” he repeats, and grips him by the shoulder from behind. “I’m sorry. That was a low blow.”

Brian doesn’t turn around, but Justin can hear him scoff. “What? I _loved_ hearing about how nothing has changed, how your friends have all been sitting around Pittsburgh waiting for their beloved boy wonder to return.”

“I said it was a low blow,” Justin repeats. “I’m sorry. I was just upset that you said we were never friends, and that you didn’t love me anymore, and –“

Brian whirls around. “I _never_ fucking stopped loving you,” he says, his voice nearly a shout.

Justin takes one look at the wide-eyed, slack-jawed expressions on everybody’s faces and reached for Brian’s hand. Brian doesn’t squeeze it, but he also doesn’t jerk away as Justin pulls him toward the back door, so he counts that as a positive sign.

“So,” Justin says once they’re outside, “what do we do now?”

Brian snorts. “ _Do_? What the fuck would we do?”

“You just said you still love me,” Justin says with a disbelieving laugh. Although he doesn’t know _why_ he finds it surprising they’re still having this out, all things and parties considered. “And you know how I feel about you. Why are you making this so difficult?”

“Maybe because I don’t feel like being a stop on the next Justin Taylor World Tour.”

The harshness of Brian’s voice, though, does startle Justin. At least, until it clicks, and Justin realizes Brian’s been telling him this all along.

_Yeah, because us making plans has always worked out **so** well._

_You’re here, now._

_And who knows the next time I’ll be able to attend one of these welcome home soirees?_

“You don’t think I’m going to stick around,” Justin says. “You think I’m just going to run off again.”

“Of course you are,” Brian says. “You come scurrying back to PIFA to finish your education like a good boy, and then once you graduate you’ll realize that you can’t make movies in Pittsburgh, so you’ll haul your pretty little ass all the way back to Hollywood.”

Stunned, Justin watches as Brian lights up a cigarette and takes a long drag.

“Only this time I’m not getting involved,” Brian continues. “So you go ahead and do whatever the fuck you want. Just leave me out of it.”

“Brian, I honestly haven’t even thought of leaving Pittsburgh.”

“Of course you haven’t,” Brian says. “But you will. And you should. Nobody chooses to stay in Pittsburgh. You just get stuck here. If you get the chance, you should go.”

“But in the meantime, while I’m still here, you want nothing to do with me. Even though we both still love each other. Even though we’re finally living in the same city again. Christ, Brian, that’s a load of bullshit, even from you!” Justin knows he should try to stay calm, knows Brian’s hurting, but fuck it, he _is_ angry, and he _is_ frustrated, and, frankly, sometimes yelling’s the only thing that gets through to Brian.

“No, what’s bullshit is putting _both_ of us through that again,” Brian says, and while he doesn’t say what _that_ is, Justin knows the alluded admission alone is a sign of just how much the separation hurt him. “I’m not interested in going through it again.”

“Well, what do you know,” Justin says. “I didn’t realize Brian Kinney became such a scared pussy while I was away. I guess some things did change.”

But Brian doesn’t take the bait. “Not being a pussy. Just pragmatic. We’ve gone through this before. This time I’m just choosing to avoid the burning building altogether instead of hanging around inside of it and waiting for it to collapse.”

Justin shakes his head. “So, what are you going to do?”

“I’ll have you know I survived 29 years without you. I have every reason to believe I can survive at least another 29 more, assuming I make the asinine decision to live that long.”

“But will you …” Justin hates himself for asking, but he can’t _not_. “If somebody else came along … would you …”

Brian laughs and tosses the cigarette to the ground, stamping it out with his foot. “As you said, Sunshine, nothing’s changed. I don’t do boyfriends.”

He turns, about to walk away, and Justin knows he can’t allow that. “Wait,” he says, and grabs Brian by the wrist. Then, throwing caution to the wind, he reaches up with both hands to pull Brian’s face down for a fierce kiss.

It takes a second for Brian to respond, and Justin is briefly afraid it’s a sign that he’s lost him for good. But then Brian growls, he fucking _growls_ , and he wraps his arms around Justin, so tightly he can barely breathe. But this is a battle, and Justin’s going to fight to the death. He gives his all to the kiss. They’d always communicated better through touch than words anyway, and Justin knows how to use it to his advantage.

 _I’m here,_ as he entwines his fingers in Brian’s hair, tugging hard enough that it must hurt, but Brian only moans.

 _Remember me,_ as he grinds his hips against Brian’s, feeling his cock hardening inside his jeans.

 _This is us,_ as he unzips Brian’s fly, and allows Brian to undo his as well.

 _I’m **always** here for you when you need me, from now on,_ as he grips Brian’s dick and feels it grow even harder in his hand.

 _We’re stronger together,_ as he moves Brian’s hand to cover his own, and together they move them up and down, jerking themselves off.

 _I’m sorry I missed the signs,_ as he swallows Brian’s gasp with a tender kiss that seems almost out of place in the roughness of what’s going on below their waists, then nuzzles his neck.

 _I love you, still,_ as Brian shoots his load with a low groan, and Justin follows along soon after, their come hot and sticky on both of their hands.

Justin rests his head on Brian’s shoulder, content to simply be back in his arms. He feels one of Brian’s hands – hopefully not the one covered in come, but honestly, he wouldn’t really care if it is – come up to play with the strands of his hair. It’s safe, familiar. Home.

And then Brian pulls away, zips up his pants, and reaches for his cigarettes. “Gotta go,” he says and, not saying another word, turns on his heel and leaves.

~*~

Justin returns to the party, but only long enough to say he’s not feeling well so he’s going to head home, but thank you to everybody for the warm welcome back. With his mussed hair, undoubtedly swollen lips, and the very obvious absence of Brian, he knows he’s fooling nobody, but they all let him leave without asking questions.

It’s a nice night, so he walks back to his apartment instead of asking somebody for a ride. Plus, he could use the time to think, given that Brian seems determined to drive him to new levels of insanity, and this time he has no idea how to fix it. How the hell do you convince somebody who admits he loves you and yet doesn’t want to be with you that that’s exactly what he should do, especially somebody as stubborn as Brian? Justin's beginning to think it would have been easier to only have to convince Brian not to hate him.

Although, to be fair, Justin can see where Brian’s coming from. Justin did have a habit of cutting and running. Of course, many of those times it was at Brian’s insistence, but the point remained. And given how closed off Brian had been, how utterly convinced he’d been that he didn’t believe in love and would never be in any type of a relationship, that had to be a lot to deal with. Just when he was getting comfortable in it again, was growing used to Justin being there, he’d leave. And now Brian fully expects Justin to do it again.

And what’s more, Brian isn't wrong. Justin hasn't thought that far out, having only been focused on returning to PIFA, but chances are there would be more lucrative opportunities for him out in California or possibly New York than in Pittsburgh. There absolutely could be a world where Justin got a fantastic job offer across the country. And, knowing Brian, he’d insist Justin take it, tell him it was the opportunity of a lifetime, and that the only person Justin owed anything to was himself.

Justin freezes in his tracks, then breaks out into a run.

He finally knows exactly what to say.

~*~

It takes so long for Brian to answer the door that Justin wonders if he’s “entertaining” and if he should come back another time. But when he finally opens the door he’s dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt with a glass of whiskey in his hand, and the sight is so familiar that Justin takes it as a sign that he’s meant to be there.

“May I come in?” Justin asks.

Brian sighs, but walks back into the loft, leaving the door open. Justin follows him, sliding the door shut behind him.

Some of the furniture is different, and Justin notices a few more photographs discreetly placed throughout the loft, but otherwise it looks exactly the same as Justin left it. He can’t help but smile. So many of the most defining moments of his life had taken place within these walls, and it feels good – no, incredible – to be back.

“I didn’t know you listened to jazz,” Justin says, finally noticing the music.

“Just goes to show that even you don’t know everything about me,” Brian says, and downs the rest of his drink.

“That’s true, I don’t,” Justin agrees. “But I’d still bet that I know you better than most.”

Brian snorts and takes a seat in a chair that looks like a newer version of the one Justin convinced him to donate to the AIDS hospice. “Cut the small talk. What the fuck are you doing here?”

“Well, a couple of reasons,” Justin says. “But they’re all related.”

“Fabulous,” Brian says. “Well, let’s hear it.”

“First, I want to tell you that I love you.”

Brian rolls his eyes. “So I’ve heard.”

“But you’re right,” Justin says. “You’re absolutely right. It’s not fair for me to come back and expect to pick up right where we left off, and then potentially leave you again in a few years.”

“Glad you could finally see reason,” Brian says. “Although I do wonder why, if you understand, you’re disregarding my wishes and are standing here in my home.”

Justin hears Brian’s words, but he’s paying much more attention to the man himself. He sees how Brian pulls in on himself ever so slightly when Justin mentions leaving him again. He sees his thumb come up to rub the corner of his mouth before he begins to speak, as though he has to will his lips to obey his mind. He sees how then Brian, the most physical man he knows, holds himself inordinately still, exercising the tightest control over himself.

Justin sees all this and knows he belongs here.

“Because I wanted to tell you that some things have changed,” Justin says. “And if you still think it’s best we don’t see each other, then fine, I’ll accept that. I won’t be happy about it, but I respect you enough to do that.”

Brian nods, only once, and his lips tighten.

“However, it’s only responsible to go into an agreement knowing the full terms, so here we go. I’ve come to the realization that, should we get back together and _if_ I get a job offer at any point after graduating from PIFA that takes me outside of Pittsburgh, I’m only going if you go with me.”

Brian’s eyes widen, and Justin wants to pump his fist in triumph. But then he sees how quickly Brian schools his face, and remembers that this is Brian, and of course there are going to be several battles to win before declaring a victory.

“That’s such bullshit,” Brian says. “Your priority is to yourself. You should go wherever is best for you. Don’t make your decisions based on other people, _especially_ not me.”

“Well, here’s the thing,” Justin says. “I realized that it is for me. Because being with you makes me happier than any job ever could. You’re a priority to me.”

Brian shakes his head. “Don’t be such a goddamn lesbian.”

“It’s true,” Justin says. “Don’t get me wrong. I love art. I can’t wait to go back to school. It gives me life. But you make that life fulfilling. It’s because of you that I can look at a canvas or my computer and see art, rather than just colors and lines. Being with you makes me better.”

“Touching,” Brian says.

“Well, not all facts need to be dry and boring,” Justin says. “Including this next one.”

Brian raises an eyebrow.

“Did you know,” Justin begins, slowly walking closer and closer to Brian until he’s standing right in front of him, so Brian is forced to look up to see him, “that there are lots of different things I can do with a degree in animation? There’s gaming, graphic design, video editing, advertising …”

“Bullshit,” Brian snorts. “You want to create this generation’s _Yellow Submarine_. You loved Hollywood.”

“Yeah, but I love you more,” Justin says, and, deciding it’s now or never, straddles Brian’s lap. “And who’s to say I can’t create this generation’s _Yellow Submarine_ right here in Pittsburgh?”

Brian doesn’t say anything, and his face barely even changes its expression, but he doesn’t shove him away, so Justin takes that as a good sign.

“Who knows,” Justin continues. “Maybe I should be talking to Michael about doing a musical cartoon version of _Rage_.”

That elicits a look of horror from Brian. “Fuck, no. It’s bad enough you have me in tights. Now you want me to be singing and dancing, too?”

Justin smiles. He’s always loved getting a rise out of Brian – and, if he’s not mistaken, it feels like Brian’s _rising_ in more ways than one. Encouraged, Justin leans forward, until his mouth is nearly pressed against Brian’s ear. “Complete with line kicks,” he whispers.

“Fuck you,” Brian growls, and then his hand’s in Justin’s hair and he’s pulling him in for a fierce, possessive kiss.

Justin groans and returns the kiss with equal fervor. _This_ is the kind of kiss he’d missed. He’d gotten a taste of it back in Deb’s backyard, but it’s nothing like what they’re doing now. That desperate, hungry kiss that makes Justin feel as though he has hot lava coursing through his veins, that shoots all his senses into overdrive. It’s why Justin had made Brian promise all those years ago to never kiss anybody else on the mouth. When Brian kisses Justin like this, he’s able to luxuriate in the knowledge that at that moment, he is Brian’s entire world. It’s an act even more intimate than sex for them, and Justin greedily wants it all for himself.

But at the moment, he needs to stop.

“Wait,” he says, after Brian pulls his shirt over his head and begins working at his jeans. “If we do this … I’m not leaving.”

Brian laughs harshly, then lifts Justin up and lays him onto the floor, covering his body with his own. “As if I’d ever been able to get rid of you before.”

Justin starts to make some witty remark, but Brian’s kissing him again and removing the rest of their clothes, so it becomes very difficult to focus on forming words.

“I’m going to fuck you,” Brian says, dropping kisses down Justin’s neck, his chest, his stomach, his dick. “I’m going to fuck you all night. And then I’m going to wake you up in the morning by sucking your cock. And we’ll do it all over again.”

Justin wants to reach up and touch Brian, wants to reacquaint himself with every line and muscle of his body, but it seems he’s going to have to wait his turn. Brian is in full-on alpha mode and seems determined to touch, lick, and suck every centimeter of Justin’s skin. Justin can only moan and arch up into his touch as he tries desperately to maintain some level of control so he doesn’t come too soon.

By the time Brian’s nudging his cock against Justin’s hole, Justin feels like he’s about to melt into the floor. Either that or spontaneously combust. He hadn’t doubted for a second that he and Brian would be able to find their old rhythm quickly – the sex between them had been earth-shattering since night one, and while Justin may not have indulged himself as much while he focused on art, Brian’s certainly been a certified master of sex for decades. But this? Justin could never have anticipated their first time together in years to be _this_ intense.

“Harder,” Justin gasps, and digs his heels into the small of Brian’s back. “Come on, Brian. Fuck me.”

“God, I missed your ass,” Brian says. He has his arms around Justin’s head, one to brace himself and the other to pull back Justin’s hair so he has better access to kiss his face and neck. They’re so fucking _close_ to each other and Justin has a sudden hysterical thought that as they move together as one, they must look like a literal fucking machine, just thrusting and fucking away.

“I love your dick inside of me,” Justin says. “Feels so fucking good.”

“Whose dick?” Brian demands, his voice harsh.

“Yours,” Justin repeats, and pulls Brian’s face toward him so he can kiss him hard on the mouth. “Always yours.”

Brian’s rhythm falters almost imperceptibly, and Justin knows he’s close. He wants to jerk himself off, except then he wouldn’t be able to feel Brian’s body rubbing against his cock. But in a moment he realizes he won’t even have to do to that, because Brian changes the angle of his thrusts just a hair, and it’s enough to make Justin scream. And then Brian kisses him again, and it’s like he’s fucking his mouth too, and Justin comes, his shout muffled by Brian’s mouth. Brian pounds into him, his thrusts growing somehow even stronger and wilder, and he climaxes as well, his entire body shuddering.

It’s a long while before either of them moves. Brian’s collapsed on top of Justin, his head resting on his chest, and Justin idly runs his fingers through his sweaty hair. Justin wonders if he could fall asleep here, Brian’s dick still inside of him, but he’s gradually becoming aware that they’re on a hard floor and it’s not the most comfortable of surfaces, and the come cooling on his stomach is starting to grow uncomfortable. It’s just one more reminder of how much time has passed; only a few years ago, Justin wouldn’t have spared a second thought to sleeping on the floor with Brian on top of him. A wave of sadness crashes over him, and he tightens his hold on Brian.

Brian must feel it, because he stiffens ever so slightly, but he doesn’t say anything, and instead simply presses his lips to Justin’s chest.

“So,” Justin says, his voice sounding unnaturally loud to his ears, “do you believe me now? That I’m not going to leave again unless you come with me? That you’re just as much of a priority as my career, if not more? And that I’m more than okay with that?”

Brian draws a deep breath and pushes himself up on his forearms so he can meet Justin’s eyes. “No.”

Justin feels all the air rush out of him. “No?”

“No,” Brian repeats. He kisses Justin, and Justin feels like it was meant to be a brief meeting of the lips, but it quickly melts into something more. “But I’ll give it a try.”

Justin smiles and draws Brian back into his arms, all thoughts of the hard floor and the stickiness between their bodies forgotten.

It may not be perfect, not just yet, but it’s a damn good sign.

He’s finally home.


End file.
